The Toys of War
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: On the advice of Glorfindel and his brothers, a young Estel has decided to spend a winter in Mirkwood learning archery and getting better acquainted with Legolas and Thranduil.
1. Daughter of Men

**Disclaimer: **My name's not Tolkien and since I've borrowed my dad's laptop today, I don't even own the computer I'm typing on.

**Author's Note: **I didn't intend to start posting this for a while, but the first chapter has been done and waiting for _months_, and I finally decided I couldn't resist. It's meant to be a series of one-shots rather than a multi-chapter story, so updates mayn't be more often than once a month or so, if that.

This is set immediately after _Many Meetings_, with a young Estel who does not yet know his heritage.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass, for advice, suggestions and patience with questions. *hugs*

**Summary:** On the advice of Glorfindel and his brothers, a young Estel has decided to spend a winter in Mirkwood learning archery and getting better acquainted with Legolas and Thranduil. He learns that the Elves of the Woodland Realm are both very different from and very similar to the ones he knows.

**Warnings:** None, except for the usual fluff, and maybe some angst if the opportunity presents itself.

**Rating:** PG

* * *

**Chapter I: Daughter of Men**

Legolas Thranduilion.

I have heard the name, of course. I have heard a great deal about you, as well... Not because you are Thranduil's son, but because there are many here in Imladris who are fond of you.

Let me tell you at once that I mean no offence, Thranduilion. I am sure you are both the brave Elven warrior of the twins' stories and the gentle woodland prince of Glorfindel's reminiscences. But I am mother to a young man whose admiration for you is unmistakable, whose affection and loyalty, I think you will soon realize, are not easily shaken once bestowed. I must ask myself a different question. Will you be a good friend to my son?

I know you far better now than I did when I first saw you riding through those gates. I must confess I did not notice you then; I had eyes only for my Estel.

Over the past few weeks I _have_ noticed you. At first I found you a little alarming, almost fey, like the Wood-elves who haunt the forest around the Last Homely House, singing their jolly but uncannily perceptive songs and laughing unseen among the oaks and beeches.

I realize now that the Imladris I know is an Imladris still mourning the absence of its mistress, who sailed across the Sea so long ago that I did not even imagine that memories of her would still haunt the valley. But you knew Imladris when the Lady Celebrían still dwelt in Middle-earth. It may be that your presence has restored some of the cheer of that happier time.

So, you see, Thranduilion, I have nothing against you. I believe that you are kind and genuinely fond of my son; if I did not, I would not ask this of you.

I have no fears for Estel's physical well-being while he is in your care. Lord Elrond tells me he has told you of Estel's lineage and of the need for both caution and secrecy. He assures me that you will guard my son with your life. He promises me that while he and Thranduil have their differences, he has great faith in the kindness of the Elven-king – especially when his son is involved.

I trust Elrond, and so I trust you – I trust that you will do all that is in your power to ensure my Estel's safety and comfort. But I must ask you a question.

What does the son of the Elven-king of the Woodland Realm know of Men?

My son knows so little of his own race that it saddens me immeasurably. He has been brought up among the Elves of Imladris. He knows about nobility and courage and the heroes who died in defence of Gondolin. He knows, thanks to Lord Elrond's _peredhel_ blood, about Túor and Beren. And through his knowledge of them, through the books in the library and the songs in the Hall of Fire, he thinks he knows Men.

Túor and Beren! They were great men, no doubt, and it honours me to be of their race, but... How do I explain this in terms an Elf would understand? It is like hearing the Lay of Leithian and thinking you know all there is to learn about the Sindar.

I want my son to be King, Thranduilion, but I also want him to be a _good_ king. It is said that your father is a good king, so I believe you know what I mean. He must know his people: not only the valiant warriors who hold Gondor against the minions of the Enemy, but also the craftsmen and the innkeepers, the smiths and the farmers... He must know of valour that poets might never consider worthy of renown.

He has grown up hearing of the choice of Tinúviel who gave up her life's grace; I want him to be able to appreciate the less exalted sacrifices of peasant-girls and farriers' daughters.

I have heard that your father's realm, for all its darkness and the evil that has been wrought upon it, is a merrier place than Imladris. I am glad of it; I like the thought of Estel laughing with young Elven archers beneath the elms of Greenwood. It seems to me that there is too little laughter in Imladris now: even the Wood-elves seem fewer and graver than they once did.

I would not have you believe I do not appreciate what Lord Elrond has done for us – I do. But I have lived all my life among Men, who, without the centuries stretching endlessly before them, must find joy even in the darkest of times or not at all.

There is something I must tell you, Legolas, and I trust you will never let Elrond know of it. During one of those feasts for which your realm is famous, should you manage to get Estel drunk on your father's Dorwinion, I will not complain. Just ensure that he does not make too much of a fool of himself.

Estel is thrilled at the thought of learning archery from the Elves whose prowess even Glorfindel praises (although never, to my knowledge, in their hearing) and I am grateful to you and your father for giving him such joy. I do not expect he will ever be as skilled as the finest Elven bowmen, but I am sure he will be proficient by mortal accounting. I do not doubt that it will serve him well in whatever battles he must face in the future.

Of course I will be pleased if you manage to make an archer of him, but I will be better pleased if you manage to show him your realm, from your father's stronghold to the smallest forest settlement.

Elves, I have noticed, frequently think of the Dúnedain as a distinct race, halfway between Men and Eldar. While it is true that we have Elven blood, we are not Elves, Legolas. We are Men.

I do not believe I have explained myself very well.

I am asking you, Thranduilion, as any mother would, to take care of my son. I am asking you to teach him what he cannot learn in a place like Imladris. I am asking you to introduce him to Elves who have not slain Balrogs, to show him that great deeds do not become less if minstrels in the Hall of Fire do not sing of them.

Strange as it may seem, I am asking an Elven prince to teach my son how to be a Man.

* * *

With a small smile, Legolas folded up Gilraen's letter and tucked it into his pack. He leaned back against the trunk of an oak, murmuring a soft greeting to the tree.

"What was that?" a sleepy voice asked.

The Elf glanced at Estel, who was spreading his blankets nearby.

"Just a note from Imladris, _penneth_. Go to sleep. I am told by Lord Elrond that Men need much sleep, and we have far to travel before we reach home."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Peredhel_ – Half-Elf

_Penneth_ – Young one

* * *

There'll be more action in later chapters - and they'll be longer, too. ;-)

What did you think? Good? Bad? Should absolutely not be continued? Please review!


	2. A Young Warrior

**Disclaimer:** Once again my father's laptop, and still not Tolkien, so I own literally nothing of this.

Thanks to CAH, ShaolinQueen, Escape my reality, triolet, sokkergurl, Lady Ambreanna, ilysia, Silivren Tinu, Baby Dragon, invisigoth3, Carthage, firehottie, RadioactiveSquirrel and TuesdayEvening for the reviews!

Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass, for comments, suggestions and patience with questions.

* * *

**Chapter II: A Young Warrior**

Estel sat up and groaned in frustration. He had been tossing restlessly for hours, unable to sleep, worrying about his archery training, which was due to begin the next day.

He got out of bed, wrapped himself in a blanket, and slipped out of his room into the long corridor that ran the length of the royal quarters in Thranduil's stronghold. Directly opposite, Legolas' door was shut, with no light gleaming under it. But from what Estel knew of Elves in general and the Prince of the Woodland Realm in particular, Legolas was certainly awake.

He knocked. There was no answer. After a moment's hesitation, he pushed open the door.

The sitting-room was in darkness, but flickering light shone through the half-open bedroom door. Estel went into the bedroom.

It was empty: the bed was still neatly made. The light Estel had noticed came from a lamp that was on the windowsill. Beside it was an open book, pages fluttering in the light breeze. The door leading to the balcony was open, revealing a vista of starry sky.

Deciding that the young Elf probably wanted to be left alone, Estel turned to leave. He was stopped by a voice from the balcony.

"Come, _penneth_. You are not disturbing me."

Only for a moment, Estel wondered how Legolas had heard him. He was certain that he had made absolutely no noise. Then he gave up, mentally adding another tale to what would later become a treasure-house of anecdotes on how infuriating Elves were, and went out to the balcony.

Legolas was standing in one corner, his back to Estel, clad only in leggings and a light tunic despite the hint of autumn's chill already in the air.

"Why are you awake?" the Elf asked, not turning. Estel padded up to the railing beside him, looking out over the silent forest and the gentle slope of rock beneath them. "You should be getting all the rest you can. Your training begins tomorrow – and when Lord Thorontur says dawn to dusk, he usually means dawn to midnight."

"I could not sleep," Estel confessed.

Legolas looked at him in swift concern.

"Is something wrong? Are you ill? Lord Elrond warned me that illness in Men frequently leads to their being unable to sleep. I think Feredir knows something of mortal medicine – he studied with the healers of Imladris. If –"

"I am well!" Estel said hastily. Then he hesitated. While he had already grown to like Legolas, he did not know the Elven prince as well as he did his brothers, and he did not want his new friend to think him weak or childish. But somehow he found it impossible to lie to the Elf's unblinking blue eyes. "I... I am frightened."

Legolas looked as though he understood. He wrapped an arm around Estel's shoulders in silent sympathy. The young man leaned into it gratefully: in a foreign land, among strange Elves, with his mother and his foster-family several days' ride away, he had felt more alone than ever before in his life. Even Legolas, to whom his brothers had sternly ordered him to go whenever anything was wrong, had seemed unusually alien that day.

"I was terrified," the Elf said quietly. "I had learnt the bow for many years before I began my formal training, of course, but only as a sport. Warrior training seemed so different. I was certain I would fail miserably and be a disappointment to my parents and the Archery Masters and everyone else."

"What happened?"

"It was not as bad as I feared," Legolas replied, smiling. "It was taxing, of course: the Archery Masters were hard, and Lord Thorontur, when he found time to come and oversee our practice, was even harder. There were occasions when I was certain I would never be good enough even to be a simple guard."

"But..." Estel paused, wondering how to explain. What he felt was far more than simple nervousness. "But Elrohir told me that he always knew you were going to be a good archer, and it was only a question of time and practice. And I will never be as skilled as any Elven bowman."

"Is that what is worrying you?"

"Lord Thorontur has never trained a Man before," Estel whispered hoarsely. "I... I do not know if he will think I am not good enough."

"Estel, if Lord Thorontur had objected to Men being archers, he would never have consented to train you in the first place. Not even my father can make him do something if he has set his will against it... You have the makings of a great warrior, _penneth_."

"Not by the standards of Elves," Estel said with unexpected bitterness.

"If all it took to be a warrior was skill with weapons, you would still be one of the best. That much I can tell already. But it takes far more than that." Legolas paused. "You have never gone... hunting... with Elladan and Elrohir, have you?"

"Hunting Orcs? No. _Ada_ will not let me. He says that it is bad enough that they must do it without my going and watching."

"That is just as well," Legolas muttered, a sudden, steely glint in his eyes. Estel was more than a little surprised: his brothers and Legolas had always seemed to him the best of friends. Then the expression was gone, leaving the young man to wonder whether he had imagined it. "The best warriors are not always those with the keenest eyes and the swiftest reflexes, although those are good qualities to have. They are those who know courage and compassion, and you have ample measure of both."

"That is what Lord Glorfindel always says."

For several minutes they stood in silence. Estel finally broke it.

"Will come with me tomorrow?"

"For your first lesson? I would not miss it for worlds, _penneth_." The Elf's voice had taken on a mischievous note that the young man had learnt to dread. "I will be there."

"And after that?"

"After tomorrow I will have duties," Legolas said regretfully. "There is nothing I would like better than to see how you and Lord Thorontur get on with each other. But I will come whenever I can. And when I am away, either Saeldur or Aeroniel will be in the stronghold – you met them today. One of us will be there, if only to divert Lord Thorontur when he becomes too... enthusiastic."

"Why is one of you always in the stronghold? Do you not go anywhere together?"

"We try very hard not to."

Normally Estel would not have probed, but something made him ask, "Why not?"

The Elf sighed.

"They are my seconds. After the Watchful Peace ended, when Orcs and spiders began to multiply again... There were some incidents that made us realize how exceedingly undesirable it would be for the archers to be left without a commander. Now, as far as can be managed, one of us always stays in the stronghold."

"Does your father know?"

"He was the one who ordered it." Estel shivered; he could not imagine how difficult it had been for the Elven-king to give that order. Legolas, feeling it, added, "He is far braver than I am. When I became commander of the Colhador, Lord Thorontur and Lord Arbellason practically forced my father to stop going into battle himself unless the need was dire. He protested, but he accepted it in the end. I must confess that I am glad of it: I would be able to concentrate on nothing if I were afraid..."

"I know."

"In any case," Legolas said, his voice taking on a note of forced cheerfulness, "you have no cause for concern, _penneth_. You have all the makings of one of the greatest warriors and captains of Men. But even if you turn out to be a terrible warrior, it will make no difference to me – or to your brothers, or your mother."

"Legolas?"

"Yes?"

"After tomorrow, when you begin your duties again... Is there... You might... Will you come back?"

Legolas took a step back and looked at the young man very seriously.

"I will do my best, Estel. I will always do my best."

Estel hesitated. The thought of losing his friend as he had, so many years ago, lost his father, was terrible. In his waking hours he could not remember it, but in his nightmares he sometimes saw the flames of houses on fire and heard horses neighing and women screaming and the desperate cries of children.

Then he thought of Lord Elrond, bidding his sons farewell as they rode away to a battle of which he could not even approve; of Thranduil, going about the business of administering his realm while Legolas led the archers in their bloody battles; of his own mother, living far from her kinsfolk and friends and all she knew and loved so that Estel could grow up safe and happy.

"So long as you promise to be careful," Estel said, and was rewarded by a warm, approving smile.

"And now, _penneth_," Legolas told him with a grin, "you really _should_ be sleeping, but since you are awake, let me instruct you in the one art of the warrior that Thorontur is likely to neglect. You will not get far unless you know how to get in and out without using any of the doors."

* * *

**Sindarin Translations**

_Penneth_ - Young one

_Ada_ - Dad/Daddy

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


	3. Practise to Deceive

**Disclaimer:** My laptop this time. Still don't own anything.

I know it's been a while since I posted anything in this, and I'm sorry! I definitely didn't plan on it being this sporadic.

This fic was originally intended as a birthday present for Yenneffer, but considering how late it is, I guess I'll just have to call it a present. I hope you enjoy it, hun! (I know you wanted the twins and Glorfindel, and I promise I'll write you something with them soon.)

For anyone following _Murder in the White City_, expect Chapter 10 this weekend. ((crosses fingers))

Thanks to ilysia, Tuesdayk, Baby Dragon, sokkergurl, Delaney's Kid, ObiBettina7, Lady Ambreanna, Silivren Tinu, Ohtar Vicky, , lemonrocker, CC., Mirkwood Elven-Prince is mine, Caelhir and Pearlmaidenredskyla for the lovely reviews.

* * *

**Chapter III: Practise to Deceive**

Estel woke to the sound of distant thumping. He wished it would stop. He knew he could not possibly have been asleep for more than five minutes.

The thumping intensified in volume. With a groan and a mumbled protest, the young man rolled over and pulled his blankets over his head. They muffled the noise slightly, but not nearly enough to let him go back to sleep. Before he could bury his head under his pillow, he heard his bedroom door open.

"Leg'las?" he muttered drowsily.

"No," an unfamiliar voice said. "If I were you I would get up now. Lord Thorontur tends to take a dim view of lateness, and I am sure you want time for breakfast."

Estel pulled the blankets down and opened his eyes. The room was still dark. Someone was standing over him holding a torch: he could see dark warrior-braids glinting in the flickering light, but he could not make out the Elf's face.

"You are fortunate Legolas told me to wake you," the Elf continued, sounding amused. "He thought that you might have some difficulty getting up after your adventurous night. You really should not let the Elfling keep you awake. He is always restless for a few days when he has been travelling. It is best to let him work it off on his own." He eyed the young man with a bemused expression. "You really should get up. You will be late."

"Saeldur!" Estel exclaimed, suddenly recognizing the Elf as Legolas' second and one of his closest friends.

"At your service, my lord."

"Where is Legolas?"

"He had to go out. One of the patrols was in trouble. He should not be long, though; you will see him at breakfast – the breakfast for which you _may_ have time _if_ you hurry. You have half an hour."

* * *

When Estel made his way to the dining-hall fifteen minutes later, the patches of sky visible through the wide windows were still glittering with stars. Despite the early hour there were several Elves at breakfast. It took him a moment to realize that they were all warriors, either leaving for patrols or returning from them. There was no sign of Legolas, but Saeldur waved to him from a table near the far wall. Estel made his way across the room, trying to ignore the stares and whispers that followed him.

He sat between Saeldur and another Elf, who was wearing a silvery-grey cloak with the emblem of the Southern Guard embroidered in gold on the breast.

"Estel, this is Arahael," Saeldur said, sounding oddly formal. "He is my kinsman and a captain in the Southern Guard. Arahael, this is Estel, foster-son of Master Elrond of Imladris. As you know, he is Legolas' friend and is here to train with the bow under Lord Thorontur."

"I am delighted to meet you, Elrondion," Arahael intoned equally formally. His dark eyes glittered with what Estel was certain was displeasure – but he could not imagine what he had done to annoy the Elf already. "I am sorry I cannot stay." He pushed his chair back and got to his feet. "Good luck with your training, Elrondion. Saeldur – we _must _speak later."

Saeldur said nothing, watching Arahael go with a frown that gradually turned into an outright scowl.

"I am sorry," Estel mumbled, flushing in embarrassment. "I did not realize I would be interrupting."

"It was a welcome interruption," Saeldur said tightly. Then, with a forced effort at cheer, he turned to the young man with a bright smile. "Do not let Arahael spoil your mood, _penneth_. He is chronically ill-tempered: I think it has been at least fifty years since anyone heard him laugh. Have some breakfast. You will need it. Lord Thorontur, if I know anything of him, will work you hard."

Estel, turning to the plate that Saeldur pushed in front of him, discovered that he was hungry despite himself. He was halfway through his breakfast when he heard someone sit beside him. For a moment he feared that Arahael had returned; then, looking up, he saw Legolas, and his nervous expression turned into a bright grin.

"You are here!"

"Of course I am here," Legolas responded, grinning back. "You did not expect to miss your first lesson with Lord Thorontur!" He eyed Estel's plate. "You seem to be short of time, _penneth_. Hurry up and finish your breakfast. Where is your bow?"

"In my room," Estel said nervously. "I did not know if I ought to bring it here."

"Do not sound so worried." Legolas gave Estel an encouraging pat on the back. "Lord Thorontur is strict, but he is not unreasonable, and he knows that you do not yet understand our ways. It is a natural enough doubt. The exigencies of war force us to dispense with many courtesies that are still observed in Imladris – you can carry your weapons anywhere in the stronghold except the King's council chamber. I will fetch your bow for you this time. You cannot be late for your first lesson. Finish your breakfast and go to the ranges. Saeldur will show you where."

Legolas was out of the room on the word. Estel finished his breakfast under Saeldur's watchful eye. He was then hustled outdoors to the novices' archery range, shorter than the one used by the experienced archers and bounded by several yards of empty ground to prevent stray arrows from hitting passersby. Legolas was there already with his gear.

If Estel had been expecting simply to strap his quiver to his back and begin, he was mistaken. Legolas and Saeldur fussed with the straps, made him reach back and touch the quiver with both his right and his left hands, and muttered darkly about too few spare bowstrings.

"Lord Thorontur did not object to my quiver last time!" Estel protested when Legolas began unbuckling the straps for the third time.

"_Last_ time you were not beginning formal archery training," Legolas responded. "Lord Thorontur may not notice your quiver, but before long he will be expecting you to shoot so rapidly that every second will count. You will be glad of well-adjusted straps then. I think this will do for now," he added, stepping back and surveying Estel from head to foot.

"I think it will have to do," Saeldur said, grinning, as Thorontur walked onto the field.

Bowing formally to the Elf-lord, Legolas and Saeldur backed away to the side, giving Estel an unbroken view of the targets arranged at the far end of the archery range. Estel stared at them in nervous fascination: they seemed to be swimming before his eyes.

"I see your stance has improved." Thorontur was walking around Estel, surveying him with approval. "And that Legolas and Saeldur have been trying to help you." He paused to look at the two young Elves. "Do not listen to what they tell you about me. I have to spend half my time telling them off because they are the most impossibly half-witted children any Archery Master ever had the misfortune to teach. I do not doubt that you will be far better than either of them." He stepped to Estel's side, just out of his line of sight. "The centre target, Estel. Fire."

Estel had not been expecting the order: he fumbled with his arrows, taking several seconds to grasp one and pull it from the quiver. His shot, when he finally managed it, was wild.

Thorontur did not look perturbed.

"Try again. Slowly. Take as much time as you need. Speed will come with practice. For now, the _only_ thing you must think about is hitting the target."

Estel took another arrow. He took a deep breath as he set it to his bow, sighting down the wooden shaft to the target. He released the arrow: it seemed to take an eternity to cross the field, but at last he heard the satisfying _thwack_ as it struck the target. Estel realized with some surprise that it had hit the third ring from the centre: a far better shot than he usually managed.

"You were not expecting that," Thorontur said shrewdly. The young man shook his head. "You will learn, in time, to know how an arrow will fly the moment it has left your bow. Now, before you try again..."

* * *

It was noon when Thorontur finally said, "That will do. You need not come back after lunch, Estel. There is no need to overdo it on the first day. You should get some rest."

Estel turned to Legolas and Saeldur, and realized with a shock that they were not alone. Quite a crowd had gathered to watch him. They were standing in dead silence, which explained why he had not noticed their presence. He did not even know most of them, but they were all smiling and nodding at him in greeting.

One of the few he _did_ recognize was Arahael, who was not smiling. His brows were drawn together in a grimace of unconcealed displeasure. Estel was not the target of his anger, though: he was looking to his left – at Saeldur and Legolas.

Most of the Elves dispersed as soon as Lord Thorontur had left. Legolas and Saeldur stayed to help Estel gather his scattered arrows. Arahael stayed as well, although all he did was stand with crossed arms glaring at all three of them.

"You must want your lunch," Saeldur commented, handing Estel the last of the arrows. "Legolas?"

The Elf-prince shook his head.

"I have a patrol."

"What, now? You only returned yesterday!"

"Apparently there was a sudden attempt at an incursion on the southern border last night. Oh, I am not going _that_ far. But Ellaurë has had to send most of her warriors south to help, so she is short of archers for the patrols."

"Do you want me to go?" Saeldur asked. "You have barely had time to recover from your journey, and you were out this morning."

Legolas laughed. "I have spent the past few weeks in Imladris. I should say _you_ were in greater need of rest. In any case, it is not far from here. The most exciting thing to happen will probably be that Voronwë walks into another beech tree. I will see you at dinner. Estel, if you are too tired to go to the dining-hall, you can ask Galion to have your meal sent to your room."

Estel looked at Legolas uncertainly. "Will you... Will I see you tonight?"

Legolas and Saeldur exchanged a glance, and Saeldur stepped away discreetly.

"It is a safe enough place, _penneth_," Legolas said gently. "As safe as anything in Eryn Galen is, now. But if there were no danger at all, we would not need patrols."

"Be careful," Estel said after a long pause. "Please."

"I will," the Elf promised.

"Do not worry about him," Saeldur said as he and Estel watched Legolas go. "The Elfling can stay safe in this forest if anybody can." He began to lead the way back indoors. "Do you want to rest in the afternoon? If you are not too tired, I can take you –"

"Saeldur!" Arahael had put out a hand to stop them. "I _must_ speak to you."

"I do not think this is the time or the place," Saeldur snapped. "If you want –"

"It is urgent, Saeldur. I must speak to you _now_."

"I can find my own way back," Estel put in quickly, before Saeldur could say anything. "I will meet you in the dining-hall when you are finished."

"There is no need –" Saeldur began, but Arahael interrupted.

"That is very good of you, Elrondion. Thank you. Saeldur, listen to me!"

Arahael's voice faded into the distance as Estel walked away. He went to his room to put away his bow and quiver, his bow unstrung and the bowstring neatly coiled. When he went out again, he saw Thranduil entering a room further down the corridor.

"My king!" he called.

Thranduil turned to him and smiled. "Estel. How was your first lesson? Thorontur told me you showed remarkable skill."

Estel felt himself blush. "I enjoyed it. Lord Thorontur was far more lenient than I had been led to believe."

"Ah, so the children have been telling your stories of their archery lessons, have they? I can tell you one thing, Estel: most of their stories are true. Thorontur seems to like you, and he would not expect too much from a novice. But if you want to know how strict he _can_ be, you should watch him during the archers' practices. One day last summer he was supervising Aeroniel, Rochendilwen, Saeldur and Legolas at their training. He kept them at it for two days straight and I do not think he found even _one_ shot satisfactory. They were all nearly in tears at the end of it." Thranduil laughed at Estel's expression of mingled astonishment and horror. "He does what he must, Estel. We need skilled archers. He is really very fond of all his students, and they know it. That is why they do not hold it against him."

"Have you ever had archery training, my king?"

"Not under Thorontur, fortunately."

Estel grinned at him and left. He made his way towards the dining-hall. When he was nearly there, he heard soft, urgent voices. He looked around. Saeldur and Arahael were standing in an alcove nearby. Neither of them had seen him. Estel was about to call to them. Then he hesitated: Arahael had made it amply clear that what he wanted to speak to Saeldur about was not for Estel to hear. He drew back into an intersecting corridor, and was about to take another route to the dining-hall when he heard something that made him stop in his tracks.

"I tell you, the best way to do it is to arrange for Legolas to have an _accident_." That was Arahael's voice.

"Do not be a fool," came Saeldur's reply. "Do you think that if you did such a thing the king would leave you alive long enough to glory in your success?"

"He need never know. You and Legolas ride to battle together often enough. If you put a knife through him in the confusion, who will ever even imagine that it was you and not an Orc? Your friendship is well known. You would be the last person who would be suspected. Once it was done, the king would have no choice but to name you his heir."

"I have no desire to be the king's heir. And Legolas _is_ my friend."

"Then think of it as a duty to the people. Legolas is not fit to be prince. He is not even a pure-blooded Sinda. Thranduil may have forgotten himself enough to marry a Silvan, but –"

"Murdering Legolas is not the answer!"

"It is unfortunate," Arahael said coldly. "But the future of the kingdom is more important than Legolas. What if the king falls in battle tomorrow? Are we to be left with _that_ as ruler of Greenwood the Great?"

Estel could not stop a small gasp from escaping him. The voices stopped at once.

"This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion," he heard Saeldur say after a brief pause. "And I will _not_ harm Legolas or betray his trust in me."

"You will accept what must be done," Arahael responded. "You _know_ it is best this way."

Estel heard footsteps. Uncertain which of the Elves had left, he stepped into the corridor again and looked around. It seemed empty – but a moment later Saeldur came out of the alcove. His eyes widened when he saw Estel. The young man backed away as the Elf approached.

"_You_," he whispered, unable to keep the horror from his voice. "You... you are plotting against –"

"_No_," Saeldur said urgently. "I am not. Estel –" He looked over his shoulder. "Estel, I cannot explain now. This is too public a place. I do not know how much you heard, but believe me when I say that I have no part in Arahael's sedition. I would die before I did anything to hurt the king or Legolas. I will tell you about it later. In the meantime, you cannot tell anyone what you heard – not even the Elfling."

"Are you mad?" Estel hissed. "You think I will watch quietly while you –"

"I swear to you, Estel, Legolas is in no danger from me."

"I _heard_ you. You did not sound as though you would never agree to his plan!"

"Estel, please. Listen – I will tell you everything tonight, and if you are not satisfied then I will go to the king, confess to treason, and accept whatever punishment he decrees. Just do not say anything until then."

Slowly, Estel nodded.

* * *

Legolas returned on schedule that night.

Estel had just begun his dinner when the Elf-prince walked into the dining-hall. Arahael, sitting a few places down from Estel, looked up at Legolas' entry, his eyes narrowing and glimmering with something alarmingly like hatred.

Legolas saw them and came to join them, smiling at Estel's enthusiastic greeting.

"No, I am not injured," he said in response to the young man's anxious enquiries. "I hope you have had a pleasant afternoon." He glanced from Estel to Saeldur and frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Saeldur replied firmly, before Estel could say anything. "I am just glad to see you safe. Eat, Elfling."

He shifted to make room for Legolas between himself and Estel. Legolas sat. At once, an Elf hurried up and placed an empty plate before him. Another brought a cup of wine. Out of the corner of his eye, Estel saw a sudden movement from Arahael. He turned: the warrior was leaning forward staring at the Elf-prince with frightening intensity. Turning back to Legolas, the young man saw him about to drink his wine.

"Legolas!" he said urgently.

Legolas looked up at him in surprise.

"What is it? Are you well? Does the food not agree with you? The cooks know not to give you anything that mortals cannot eat."

Saeldur took advantage of Legolas' distraction to pick up his wine-cup and take a sip. After considering for a moment, he replaced it with his own. Amazingly, nobody else had noticed... or almost nobody. Estel heard a frustrated noise from behind him and knew Arahael had seen what Saeldur had done.

"Estel?" Legolas prompted.

For a moment, the youth was tempted to ignore his promise and tell Legolas everything. But Saeldur's pleading eyes met his over his friend's shoulder. He swallowed, prayed that he was doing the right thing, and shook his head.

"I... I am tired. I think I will go to bed."

"Are you ill?" Legolas demanded anxiously. "Perhaps you should see the healers."

"I am well, Legolas. I am only tired. I will be fine after a night's sleep." He got to his feet. "I will see you in the morning."

* * *

Estel lay awake for hours, agonizing over whether he had been right to trust Saeldur. When he heard Legolas' voice in the corridor outside, he could have wept with relief. The Elf-prince was talking to somebody – to several somebodies. Estel thought he recognized Thorontur's voice, and Saeldur's, but the others were unfamiliar.

After a few minutes he heard Legolas' door open and close. There was silence. Then his own door opened. Estel could not hear anything, not footsteps, not breathing, but he sensed the intruder drawing closer.

"Estel?" Saeldur asked softly. "Are you awake?"

Estel sat up at once. "Are you going to explain?"

"Yes." Saeldur pulled a chair to the bedside and sat down. "I am." He muttered something under his breath and the lamp beside the bed sprang to life, its light casting his face into even deeper shadow. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Everything." Saeldur sighed. "Very well. You must know one thing, Estel: Legolas and I have been friends since our childhood. He is like a younger brother to me – although, as matters stand, he is the one who gives the orders. Do not imagine for a moment that I resent that." He waited for Estel to nod before he went on. "My mother is a kinswoman of the king. After the disaster at the Dagorlad, most of the surviving Sindarin lords decided that they had had enough of Middle-earth and sailed to Valinor. Some stayed. Lord Arbellason and Lord Thorontur did. So did my parents."

"And you."

"I had not yet been born," Saeldur said, smiling slightly. "My parents and my mother's brothers were the king's closest kin still in Eryn Galen. When my brother Candnaur was born, the king had no intention of having children. He did not think he had any right to bring Elflings into a darkening world. So everyone expected that Candnaur would be his heir. But Queen Lindariel eventually persuaded him to see the folly of his view, and Legolas came some years later."

"What happened to Candnaur?"

"He was slain." Saeldur paused. "And I expect someone will tell you sooner or later, so I might as well tell you now: Legolas fired the arrow that killed him." Saeldur stared down at his hands, tears glimmering in his eyes. "Candnaur was taken by Orcs. We had no hope of rescuing him. I begged Legolas to kill him because I did not have the courage to do it myself."

"And then you held it against him!"

"No. But my mother did – in the beginning." Saeldur sighed. "She realized later, of course, that Legolas had little choice in the matter. Candnaur could not possibly have been saved. But by then the damage had been done. Some of the lords had always resented Thranduil's marriage – they believed that he should have chosen an _elleth_ from among the Sindar. They took my mother's part when Candnaur was killed, and some of them even encouraged her – and each other – to believe that Legolas had done it deliberately because he considered Candnaur a threat."

"You did not?"

"I know Legolas better than that. Besides, I was the one who asked him to do it. Eventually my mother accepted that she was wrong." A small grin flickered across his face. "She insisted on apologizing to Legolas in open court. Poor Legolas was exceedingly embarrassed." The grin vanished. "Some of those lords, however, were not bothered about whether Legolas was to blame or not. They only needed a reason to turn against him."

"Yet they are still here – still members of court."

"What could they do? They were in a minority. The Silvans love Legolas because his mother was one of them. Most of the Sindar like him as well. The archers he commands are more loyal to him than they are to Thranduil."

"That is why Arahael wanted you to arrange an accident."

"Yes."

"And there was something in his wine."

"It turned out that there was nothing – but I could not be certain. I did not want to take the risk."

"You should tell Legolas!"

"What good will that do, _penneth_? Even if Arahael is arrested and tried, he is not the only one. It will only make the others redouble their efforts. With the Shadow as strong as it is now, we can ill afford to exile all of them."

"Is that the real reason?" Estel asked shrewdly.

"The real reason is that as long as they know that I will not betray them to the king, they will not try to keep their plans a secret from me. All these centuries nobody has actually managed to harm Legolas. If one of them suddenly gathers enough courage to take action... I will be in a better position to help him this way."

"Why not tell him and ask him not to do anything?"

"He will never be still if he thinks the king's life may be in danger."

"And if _they_ do something first?" Estel demanded. "If they decide to take action without telling you about it?"

Saeldur stared at his hands for so long that Estel thought he was not going to answer. Finally, though, he spoke, his voice hoarse and ragged.

"They did... once. About a century ago. They very nearly succeeded. If they had..." He shuddered. "But they did not. By the time I found out what they were planning they had already acted. I was very nearly too late. If they had not told me, it truly _would_ have been too late for me to do anything." He looked up. "I will keep my word, Estel. If you ask it, I will tell the king everything." His hands clenched into fists in his lap. "But I ask you, _please_, trust me."

After a long, tense silence, Estel nodded. "I trust you."

Saeldur let out a long breath, as though, despite himself, he had expected Estel to refuse.

* * *

When Legolas came in the next morning, Estel was already awake, polishing his bow and checking the fletching on his arrows. The Elf took one look at him and burst out laughing.

"Did Lord Thorontur frighten you this much?"

"It does no harm to be prepared," Estel muttered, looking for spare bowstrings. "You should know that, Legolas. Preparation is a vital part of being a warrior. You should be preparing as well. Aeroniel told me you are beginning regular training again today."

"So I am." Legolas hesitated. "Estel, I am told you overheard Saeldur speaking to Arahael yesterday."

Estel stared. "Saeldur told you?"

"Saeldur thinks he is clever at keeping secrets. But he tends to forget himself... Even worse, he forgets that the discretion of trees is not to be trusted."

"There were no trees!"

"Not inside. But he and Arahael continued their conversation outdoors."

"Oh." Estel eyed Legolas, but his expression gave nothing away. "Are you going to say something to him?"

"To Saeldur? Of course not. I have known of this for centuries, and I do not wish to shatter his illusion of being a brilliant conspirator. He thinks I have no idea, and it would be best if it stayed that way."

"But... you know... you know that Arahael plots against you... with Saeldur... and you are doing _nothing_ about it?"

"I know that there have been Elves speaking against my father from the moment he became King," Legolas said simply. "I know Arahael does not like me, and he likes to talk. Talking is no crime, Estel. And if Saeldur intended me any harm, he would not need to conspire with anyone. He has opportunities every day to do it and make it appear an accident. But the trees do not understand, and so every time they overhear something they tell me about it in great excitement."

"Do you not want to know why Saeldur has not told you himself?"

Legolas shrugged. "As I said, Saeldur thinks he is a seasoned conspirator. He probably imagines that he is spying on my behalf in the enemy camp or some such thing. I do not know how much good it will do: those who truly oppose my father have more sense than he gives them credit for. They know he is my friend, and they will certainly not admit him to their secret councils."

Estel sighed. "All yesterday I was agonizing about whether to tell you that your most trusted companion was plotting against you, all last night I was wondering how to keep the secret – and now it appears that you know everything!"

"Secret?" Legolas demanded. "What secret?"

"I asked Saeldur about it," Estel confessed. "And he told me – but I promised I would not tell you!"

He looked so miserable that Legolas laughed.

"You do not have to tell me," he assured Estel. "Come, _penneth_. You will want your breakfast."

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


End file.
